


no halo

by bluelines



Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2010 Winter Olympics, F/F, Rival Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelines/pseuds/bluelines
Summary: Hooking up is the thing to do after your Olympics is over. Meghan leaves a wake wherever she goes, and Kacey rides it.





	no halo

“Fuck this,” Kacey says. She doesn’t even like gin, but that’s what she was handed, so that’s what she’s drinking.

“What is the point of this, anyway?”

Meghan shrugs at her.

“To get drunk,” she says, “and do something questionable, but not illegal.”

“And that’s supposed to help?” Kacey asks. Chuey is eyeing Caro from across the room, and Kacey is a little bit squeamish about it before she even speaks.

“Trust me,” Chuey says, “it helps.”

-

Meghan is an all-star flirter. Kacey is bad at it, and she spends the first hour they’re at the bar sulking and watching Meghan play the field. It takes Meghan twenty minutes to pick a girl to talk to, and Kacey can’t believe her. It’s enough to pick out a Canadian with a gold medal glinting around her neck, but to pick out Apps--Kacey can’t count on one hand the number of times that Apps has pasted her this tournament alone. It’s not a betrayal, not really, because Meghan’s not making a moral judgment, but Kace is annoyed anyway. 

When Meghan bails on Apps to go talk to one of the Finnish girls, and Apps watches her go with a bewildered look on her face, both Erika and Kacey are snickering.

“Fuck,” Erika wheezes, ducking against Kacey’s shoulder, “look at her, she was so full of herself ten seconds ago, she’s _wounded_.”

It’s the funniest thing that’s happened to them in days and Kacey kind of loves Meghan for giving it to them.

Apps catches them laughing and glowers, and Kacey gets an idea, an idea that sort of starts between her legs and travels up her back in a hot flash that’s probably the alcohol and not the defiant line of Apps’ jaw.

“Oh my fucking God,” Erika says, when she notices where Kacey is looking. And then, after a few seconds, “you won’t.”

Kacey puts down her drink. She sucks her teeth to make sure there’s nothing in them and resists the urge to check her hair. It doesn’t really matter. 

“Watch me,” she says, and strides across the room.

She makes it halfway there before her heart starts to pound. It’s one thing to watch Apps from across the room, and an entirely different thing to be standing in front of her. She’s much bigger than Kacey, even without pads and skates.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose that?” Kacey blurts, gesturing to the medal hanging around Apps’ neck.

“Just cause you’re not proud enough to wear yours doesn’t mean I have to spare you,” Apps shoots right back, and she’s surly about it, her brows drawn. Kacey’s pissed for a second before she laughs, because it’s a good chirp, all things considered.

Gillian sucks down the last of her beer and places it on the bar behind her.

“Are we doing this?” she asks, running a hand through her hair--a hand that’s bigger than Kacey thinks is has any right to be-- “or is it an American thing to flake out at the last second?”

“Damn,” Kacey says, starting to get a little bit more comfortable the longer it goes on without her falling dead on the spot, “buy me a drink first.”

Gillian doesn’t respond to that. She raises an eyebrow at Kacey, who balks, unsure whether she’s supposed to keep chirping or give up. Going with Gillian right away seems too easy. She doesn’t want to hand Gillian another win on a platter, not after getting shout out and out-chirped. She hesitates, glancing over her shoulder to see if Erika still has an eye on her, and Gillian startles her when she speaks again.

“Probably for the best,” she says, “you wouldn’t be able to handle this anyway.”

There’s that heat again, crawling up Kacey’s spine and settling at the base of her skull. She feels fuzzy and unfocused until she catches on Apps’ eyes, which are, she now knows, very blue. 

“You’re not very scary without pads and a helmet,” Kacey manages, and she’s a little proud of herself that it comes out halfway convincing. Apps--when did she become Gillian?--makes a face, but she looks interested again. 

“Your place or mine?” Gillian asks, and Kacey glances across the room to find Meghan talking animatedly to the Finnish girl she had jumped ship for.

“Yours,” she says, “I have a feeling mine’s going to be occupied.”

-

Kacey starts to feel like she’s in over her head when she can see Gillian’s building. She’s not going to back out, but she’s starting to realize that she’s actually going to _do_ this, do something. She’s trying to decide what she’ll do first. 

In the elevator, just the two of them, Gillian looks her up and down without hesitation, unselfconsciously, and Kacey feels like she’s going to overheat. Gillian’s gaze lingers on Kacey’s ass for a long time. The elevator dings and they make eye contact again, and Kacey is just trying not to look affected.

They don’t speak. Gillian opens her door and lets Kacey in first, which seems oddly chivalrous of her before she has Kacey pinned to that door. It happens so fast that Kacey loses her breath and processes everything in bits while she tries to sober up. Gillian’s hands are on her hips, but otherwise Gillian isn’t touching her. She has Kacey pinned against the door just with the weight and intention of her heavy hands. Kacey has ti tilt her head back into the door to look up into Gillian’s face.

Gillian watches Kacey’s throat when she swallows. She still doesn’t say anything, but her fingers shift against Kacey’s hips, over her shirt.

“You just gonna look, or what?” Kacey blurts, her tipsy nerves getting the best of her. 

Gillian kisses her. She has to lean down to do it, but she does, leans down and _in_ so that her hips press against Kacey’s. Kacey kisses her back immediately, but she’s not sure what to do with her hands. She doesn’t want to put her hands on Gillian’s broad, full shoulders. That feels like losing. Instead she shoves her hand under Gillian’s shirt to touch her abs, which isn’t subtle but at least feels a little bit more active.

Gillian has a six pack. Maybe an eight pack. Kacey can’t count. All she knows is that muscle is moving under her hand and Gillian’s tongue is in her mouth and she can’t breathe and doesn’t want to. Kacey tucks her index finger into Gillian’s belt loop with her free hand and pulls Gillian’s hips into hers. Gillian bites her lower lip hard, harder than Kacey expected her to, and Kacey ends up gasping and hating herself for it. She doesn’t have a lot of time to hate herself before Gillian is pushing her legs apart with a knee wedged between Kacey’s thighs, and the heat that’s been trailing up and down Kacey’s spine for the past half and hour shoots right to her stomach. That’s how she ends up clawing at Gillian’s sides, hands fisted into her shirt.

Gillian takes a step back to pull her shirt over her head. She leaves her medal on, and Kacey almost chirps her for it, but she can’t look away from Gillian’s shoulders. Her traps are ridiculous. Kacey wants to put her hands on them. Kacey wants to put her mouth--

“Take your shirt off,” Gillian says, “or I just look stupid.”

“You already look like a douchebag,” Kacey says, “standing there with your fucking medal--like it’s--whatever.”

“Still gonna fuck me though,” Gillian says, and it almost comes out as a question. Kacey sees the flicker of insecurity that moves across Gillian’s face in the second after she speaks. She fumbles to pull her own sweater over her head, but it helps. The look on Gillian’s face changes when Kacey unhooks her bra and drops it. It’s fast, but they’re still pretty drunk. Gillian blinks, staring openly, and Kacey is the one to close the space between them again.

She wraps an arm around Gillian’s shoulders and pulls her down into another kiss, all teeth at first while Gillian’s arms go around her. It’s a weirdly intimate kiss for a few seconds, one that Kacey’s almost not comfortable with, but then Gillian turns and tosses her back onto one of the beds and that’s more what she was expecting.

She bounces on the mattress, and Gillian looks down at her, thumbing her belt buckle open and stepping out of her jeans. Kacey watches, and then realizes she’s supposed to be doing the same instead of staring. She has barely kicked her jeans away before Gillian is on her again, bearing down on her neck. 

“Fuck,” Kacey mumbles, and Gillian _bites_ , not enough to draw blood but enough to sting.

“Fuck off,” Kacey articulates, and Gillian tracks her way down Kacey’s neck, leaving several marks that Kacey knows she’s going to waste concealer attempting and failing to cover tomorrow. Her stupid medal is cold against Kacey’s stomach, and Kacey pushes it away, stupidly, as if that’s going to work. Gillian sits back on her heels, her hair a mess, and Kacey feels a little bit judged.

“Thought you said I wasn’t gonna be able to handle you?” Kacey says, resisting the urge to reach up and touch the marks Gillian has left behind, “right now it doesn’t look like there’s much to handle other than a big mouth.”

Gillian flips her. It takes nothing. She does it with one arm. Kacey gets her elbows under her, but it’s Gillian that props her up on her knees, reaching with an arm around Kacey’s stomach to pull her up and back. Kacey takes a breath, ready to chirp Gillian again, but Gillian places both hands on Kacey’s hips and drags Kacey back into hers.

Kacey has a sudden, distinct thought that Gillian’s probably great with a strap-on, and she doesn’t breathe again for thirty seconds. Gillian shifts to place her thigh between Kacey’s and this time when she pulls Kacey back she’s dragging Kacey back against that thigh, and it’s a lot of friction all of a sudden, enough that Kacey groans before she can remind herself she was going to hold off on that and make Gillian ask for it.

She’s not going to be able to make Gillian do anything. She’s already desperate for more than what Gillian’s giving her, and already way too willing to let Gillian push and pull her. She could get off like this, against Gillian’s thigh without her underwear even coming off, if Gillian would just make the angle a little--but she won’t, and Kacey knows it. 

Gillian scratches along Kacey’s lower back just because she can, and Kacey squirms, gasping again. It’s embarrassing how badly she wants this and she knows that Gillian can tell. The upside is, she can hear Gillian being out of breath, which means that GIllian is right there with her. 

They’re a mess. Kacey wants things to move faster, now that she knows that Gillian’ isn’t messing around, so she rocks back without GIllian’s help, and when she does Gillian’s hands go to her ass, which makes Kacey grin into the mattress. She’s surprised it took Gillian this long, given the look she got in the elevator, but it only takes a few seconds for Gillian to yank Kacey’s underwear down over her hips. She doesn’t really let Kacey kick them away. Instead she presses Kacey’s shoulders down into the mattress with a hand between her shoulderblades, still bumping her hips just barely against Kacey’s. 

She leaves her hand on Kacey’s shoulders, holding her in place, just enough for it to ache. With her knee she pushes Kacey’s legs a little further apart, until the angle is hard to hold up against, like a plank but with half of Gillian’s weight between Kacey’s shoulders. Her abs are already starting to burn when Gillian slides her other hand between Kacey’s legs.

Kacey moans. She hears it from miles and miles away, and there’s still a part of her brain that wants her to be embarrassed about it, but she can’t be. Gillian’s hands are huge, and her fingers are long and deft and Kacey’s having trouble adjusting at first. Gillian is nice enough to give her that time to adjust, or else she’s savoring the fact that Kacey needs it, but when Kacey has relaxed enough to breathe again she tries to rock back against Gillian’s fingers. She can’t, not with the hand between her shoulders, but it’s clear that she wanted to, clear enough that Gillian’s hand slides from Kacey’s shoulders back to her hip, and once more Gillian is pushing and pulling, adding a second point of pressure only once Kacey is comfortable.

Kacey could pop back up onto her elbows, but she has a feeling that if she does Gillian’s just going to push her back facedown into the mattress, and Kacey does not want her to be distracted from what she’s doing. Kace also doesn’t know that she can come like this, with how overwhelmed she is She still really believes that until Gillian curls her fingers, just enough, and then Kacey is gasping and squirming and Gillian’s hand is tight on her hips to keep her in place.

Kacey’s not sure how long it goes on like that. Her abs go numb, her legs go numb, and some part of her is aware of how stiff her lower back is. The rest of her is preoccupied by Gillian--Gillian’s quiet panting, Gillian’s strong, sure fingers--so she’s almost caught by surprise when she realizes how close she is.

“Motherfucker,” Kacey gasps, when it finally, finally happens. Gillian’s still rocking against her, but Kacey can’t spare the energy to hold herself up once the shaking stops. She rests facedown on the mattress, breathing and trembling, for longer than she’d like to admit. Just long enough for her to realize the view that Gillian still has, especially when Gillian withdraws and sits back, leaving Kacey in empty space that she doesn’t know how to ask to fill.

She’s not sure she could, anyway. Every one of her limbs feels like Jello.

She rolls over, and Gillian looks her up and down. Mostly down. She looks like she wants to put her hands back on Kacey’s legs again, and kace stretches her legs out, half because she needs to and half because she wants to see if Gillian will do it.

She doesn’t. She looks hungry for it, though, and Kacey pushes past all her trepidation and the numbness in her legs to sit up on her knees and push Gillian back. She pushes harder than she means to, but Gillian’s mouth falling open in surprise when she flops back onto her pillows makes her glad that she did it. 

She straddles Gillian and Gillian’s hands go to her hips. That feels intimate, weird and intimate, like they’re doing something they’re not. Kacey is acutely aware of how much Gillian is actually seeing, now, especially face to face. She feels small and scrawny and too young, too freckly. She doesn’t know what Gillian _wants_ from her. The medal is distracting, and Kacey reaches for it, knocking it out of the way.

“Don’t touch it,” Gillian grumbles, and Kacey frowns at her.

“I don’t want to look at it,” she says, “you could at least take it off while I--”

“No,” Gillian says, “I can get myself off.”

“Shut up,” Kacey mumbles, and ignores the medal as best she can.

Kissing Gillian seems like the wrong thing to do. She puts her hand on Gillian’s stomach instead, walking back on her knees until she can get her other hand between Gillian’s legs. Gillian’s eyes flutter closed, and that makes Kacey a little bit more confident, enough for her to touch Gillian with more intention. 

There’s something really hot about Gillian under her like this, lolling against her pillow. Something that has to do with the way she hip checked Kacey so hard into the boards earlier that she thought she was going to dent her mouthguard. Gillian is already really far gone, enough so that it doesn’t take much for her to start chewing her lips, which Kacey thinks must be her trying to keep quiet.

She figures she can at least give Gillian that much decency, since she’s sprawled out, holding onto Kacey’s thighs with her huge hands. Kacey can already feel that she’s going to be sore, but she’s not sure how much of it is from how Gillian played her or how GIllian--well, it doesn’t really matter. Sore is sore. 

Gillian can only hold herself still for so long. Eventually she ends up rocking her hips in time with Kacey’s hand, her fingers tightening against Kacey’s thighs, and Kacey finds herself losing her breath a little bit just watching. She’s more than a little bit gratified when Gillian makes a frustrated noise, but she doesn’t have to do much else other than scratch her nails along Gillian’s stomach for Gillian to groan a little bit louder, going completely still, arching back into the mattress. When she does, pressing her head into the pillows, Kacey gets a view of Gillian’s neck and shoulders that’s more than a little enticing. It occurs to her she could leave a mark on Gillian, too, but she doesn’t want to move, not while Gillian’s shaking under her, her fingers twitching against Kacey’s skin.

And then it’s too late to do anything. Once Gillian opens her eyes again, Kacey knows she can’t do anything other than get off of Gillian and find her clothes. Anything else would make this something it’s not, and they both know it. Whatever they did is over now, and Kacey doesn’t regret it, if she’s being honest with herself. She’s not drunk enough for alcohol to be the reason why, either. Kacey stands on unsteady legs and reaches down for her bra, knowing that Gillian is watching her do it.

“You know how when you have crappy Chinese food, you’re hungry again as soon as you finish eating?” Gillian asks from the bed, her arm tucked behind her head, her medal back squarely on her chest like she thinks she’s some kind of Greek Olympic god, “nice job, lo mein.”

“Am I lo mein, or are you a hair trigger?” Kacey asks, and Gillian turns faintly pink.

She puts her bra back on, pulls her sweater back over her head, steps into her underwear and shimmies back into her jeans without saying another word to Gillian. She hopes that Meghan’s done in their room, because she needs to be in a bed again as soon as possible. She needs to hydrate. Her legs feel like she could break them off. When she turns back over her shoulder again Gillian’s staring at the ceiling, turning the medal over and over between her thumb and forefinger, looking unfairly chiseled and contemplative. 

Kacey clears her throat, one hand on the door.

“Thanks for,” she gestures and Gillian glances at her, brows knit.

“Yeah,” Gillian answer her, “I mean, whatever.”

“We’re gonna kick your ass next time,” Kacey assures her, and Gillian laughs.

“You’ll never be able to kick my ass,” she replies, and Kacey rolls her eyes before she slips out into the hallway.

There’s no way to argue that one.

-

Meghan is done by the time Kacey gets back. She’s glowing a little the way she always does after stuff like this, and Kacey mostly feels like she looks beat up. Meghan is preening, braiding her hair on her bed, and she does a double take when Kacey walks in.

“Holy shit,” she says, jumping up from the bed so she can pull the collar of Kacey’s sweater down and touch the marks Gillian left along her neck, “where’d you get _that_?”

“Where you tossed it out,” Kacey mumbles, shrugging away from her so that she can change into her pajamas. It takes a few seconds for Meghan to get it, and when she does she laughs first, sinking back onto her bed.

“No,” she says, “no way, Apps?”

“You didn’t notice me leave with her?” Kacey asks, impressed when she’s able to step out of her jeans and into pajama pants without tripping on herself.

“I was busy,” Meghan replies, and then she laughs again, mostly in disbelief.

“Wow,” Meghan says, “okay. I mean...okay. So that went well.”

“For sloppy seconds,” Kacey says, and Meghan presses her lips together, but for a few seconds she doesn’t say anything. When she does, her tone is very careful, and Kacey is jealous of how sober Meghan is.

“I mean,” she says, “I thought about it. I talked to her for a while.”

“She smelled like a cigar,” Kacey lies, “and she wouldn’t take her fucking medal off.”

“Yeah,” Meghan agrees, “I didn’t really see the appeal.”

She’s lying. Kacey can tell that she’s lying, and not just because Gillian is hot, cigar or not. She lets Meghan sit with that lie for a few seconds before she decides how she’s going to test her theory. She’s still recovering from her gin-and-whatevers enough for her to have to process her plan for a long few seconds before the words get to her mouth.

“Well she has an eight-pack,” Kacey says, “so there was that, at least. I mean, she’s like, totally shredded.”

Meghan’s ears turn red. She finds something to do with her hands, turning down her covers and digging for her phone in her bag, and Kacey is unreasonably smug about having been right. Meghan didn’t bail because she was disinterested. It was the opposite.

She doesn’t bring it up again until they’re both in bed, lit only by their phone screens. Kacey rolls onto her stomach, watching Meghan’s face for a few seconds, tucking her hands beneath her pillow.

“I think you hurt her feelings a little,” she admits. It’s easier to say in the dark. Meghan isn’t sure what she means right away, but it’s clear on her face when she makes the connection. 

“And not just because she thinks she’s hot shit,” Kacey adds. Meghan exhales on something resembling a laugh, and Kacey gets a glimpse of her smile before she locks her phone, leaving them both in the dark.

“Go to bed,” Meghan mutters, and Kacey hides her grin in her pillow.


End file.
